The Trampled Rose
by Finch the Touch
Summary: Everyone knows the story of the Sleeping Princess, but what happens Ever After? What if she wasn't fond of being kissed by a complete stranger? How can a country thrown 100 years ahead cope? Please, reviews/flames/criticisms are greatly appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

Once Upon a Time…

"Ouch! What was that for?!" The young man cried, leaping out of the line of fire. One hand tenderly cradled his face while the other was flexed at his side. The confusion and anger in his face was mirrored in that of the woman he directed his words to.

Oh yes, she was livid. She was also supposedly the singularly most beautiful young woman of this country, but James had a sneaking suspicion that the poets who praised the delicacy of her fingernails had never seen her in a rage.

"What are you doing in my ROOM?!" She shrieked, hurling a pillow at his head.

James had caught on enough by the point to duck, which was a lucky thing, considering the flurry of feathers that rained down on them. Unfortunately, the fact that he had escaped unscathed seemed to anger the princess all the more. Within a matter of seconds, she was towering over him on the bed, flailing a poker in his general direction.

"Get out! Get out of here, you worm! Who do you think you are? I've never seen you before, so what gives you the right to – ugh – to kiss me?! Are you some kind of freak who wanders around kissing sleeping girls? Get out!"

This diatribe was punctuated with several items flown his way – a hairbrush and lamp just a few among them. James, however, had slipped out mid-rant and was darting down the cold stone hall. The Princess's indignant cries followed him, and hurried his step. The exclamations allowed him to think of only one thing – escape.

Unfortunately, it was not so easy to get out as it was to get in (and considering the briar bushes and dragon, this was no small feat). It seemed as if the castle had suddenly blossomed with life. Men who had been sleeping on the ground were up and about, laughing and talking. Sadly, this meant that the previously dozing guards were also alert, as James was about to discover quite painfully.

"Hey, you! Halt!"

James wasn't quite sure what kind of person would actually stop at those words if they were running for their lives, but he was certain that he wasn't in the obliging frame of mind. Instinctively, he sped up. Darting down the hall, past suits of armor and baffled looking servants (who were wondering just how the fresh baked bread they were holding mere moments ago had become moldy). James was so intent on not running into anyone that he sprinted straight into a wall. The guards who had been following the young man grinned bemusedly at his limp form before lifting him bodily and carting him away.

"Calm down, dear. Now, tell me what exactly he did, without any of the hysterics, please."

"He was in my room! And he violated me!" The last was said in a dramatic whisper. James blinked slowly. He knew that voice, and something was telling him the he should run – why then did it feel like his mind was clouded? Still, he struggled weakly for his knees and decided to go with what his subconscious was telling him – it was time to run for it.

Unfortunately, his body had other plans, and his legs promptly deposited him back on the floor.

"You ran into a wall." A voice said coldly. James strained his head up to see who it belonged to, and found himself staring into the face of an extremely tall, middle aged man.

"You!" The Princess spat at him, glaring at the intruder briefly before turning back to her father. "And that's why we should have him executed."

That seemed to bring things into a clearer focus for him. Did she just say execution? Maybe his mind was still playing tricks on him, but the chances of that seemed slim, considering that the King was regarding him rather gravely.

"Now, now, Evangeline. Let's let the boy explain himself. Or at least, attempt to."

All at once, James became aware that he was sprawled before the thrones, and that every pair of eyes in the court was trained on him. Struggling to sit up and regain a scrap of dignity, James cleared his throat and looked around at his waiting audience.

"Well, my name is James." There now, that wasn't such a bad start. "And she was asleep."  
"We're all aware of that, boy."

Right. Trying to keep the flush from his cheeks, he quickly hurried on with his story. But not before straightening and returning the glare that the Princess was giving him.

"Not just the Princess, your Majesty. All of you. The entire castle. For one hundred years."

His bold statement was followed by silence, and then the King chuckled. The rest of the court followed, laughing as if he had just told them that a goose had composed an opera. What did they find so funny?

"Very amusing, boy. Do go on with this 'story' of yours…"

Despite the laughter, James boldly continued. "It all started about fourteen years back, when I was five. My grandfather told me a story – a story about a sleeping castle, where the people didn't age, and there was a Princess in a tower who could only be awakened by a kiss. This morning, as I was out gathering food, I found the castle, and well… you've heard the rest."

Oh great. Now they all were certain he was insane. All the laughter had died out, and all eyes had turned to the king, who was meeting his gaze grimly.

"Now lad, if we had been asleep for one hundred years, surely we would have noticed?" He asked. "You said yourself none of us have aged. So where is your evidence?"

James spluttered, and began quickly pointing at all the surrounding walls.

"Look at the tapestries! They've lost any hint of color! And I bet most of the food has gone sour, and there are cobwebs and dust everywhere!"

The King frowned at him imposingly. "I will NOT have you speak that way to me or the occupants of my court. Now, it is true that we have let the care and keeping of my house wither since my wife's death, and your impertinence in this time of mourning will not go unnoticed. Take him to the dungeons." 

With that, James felt the strong hands of guards clamp down on his shoulders. The last thing he saw before he was dragged out of the throne room was the cold look in the Princess's eyes.

AN: This is a story I started a few years ago. I'm not sure whether I'm going to continue it or not, I guess it depends on the response I get. So read, review, praise, flame, whatever. Hope you enjoyed the first bit!


	2. Chapter 2

Rats were seldom good company, but after three long days, they seemed the only company James was likely to get. There were no other prisoners – the King was a benevolent one. That is, except when his daughter's virtue was in question. The cells were filled with the dank smell of disuse, and new torches had be brought in to light to stone corridors, for the old ones were so damp they refused to be relit. James shivered and wedged himself more snugly into the corner closest to the door.

Light filtered weakly through the huge wooden door, barely illuminating the cracks in the floor and the beady eyes of James's cell mates. They had been quite unnoticeable, until his first meal of bread had been tossed into the room. Then, they swarmed. Only after James beat them off was he able to salvage the last of his stale bread and choke it down. Since then, the rats watched his every move, waiting for the next meal.

Luckily, most of the time James was prepared, and he pounced before they overran the floor. Several loaves had been sacrificed, however, as well as a few mugs of mead that were overturned in the chaos. The rats seemed to like that just as much as the food, so not a drop was wasted. One thing James was sure of – there were far too many rats sharing his tiny space. Yet, they had to be coming from somewhere, right?

Intrigued, he eased himself to his feet, grunting from the pain his disused muscles called him, and began to feel the chinks in the stone for an opening of any sort. After roughly an hour of searching blind, he found it. Tucked away in the very back corner was a drain of sorts, with a board covering up the opening to the outside.

When they had stuck him in this cell, they obviously hadn't inspected it first. Of course, James knew what one hundred years of frequent rainfall would do to the board. With a muffled grunt, he kicked through the molding board, which came apart easily under the pressure of his foot. The hole it left was small, but with some care, he could pry away rocks around it and manage to squirm through. So, the young man sat and began the slow process of working his way to freedom.

About an hour later, he had created a rough opening that he could just slip through. After making sure the guards had left him for the night, James scrambled out into the cold, midnight air.

The moon illuminated the puffy white drifts of snow that surrounded the walls of the castle. It looked like he had come out in some sort of garden. He stood for a moment, examining the once tidy rows of vegetables that were now overgrown with weeds, which were in turn frosted over from the cold weather. James surveyed the grim scene, feeling only exalted. He had made it out! This small garden was his key to freedom, and he was determined to appreciate the accomplishment it marked.

He was so distracted with thoughts of how to escape unseen from the castle, that he didn't hear the crunch of feet in the snow, until someone spoke.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to get out of there. Three days – huh. You disappointed me."

Startled, James spun around, hands looking for anything that could be a weapon. The only thing he came up with was an extra long weed which he yanked from the ground. The man who spoke was leaning against the wall, looking as if he cared not a bit who James was, and why exactly he was escaping. He held a bow under his arm, and was spinning an arrow idly with his free hand.

James froze, realizing just how little help his limp vegetation would be against an armed, not starved young man.

"So, you're the Prince who's come to win our Evangeline's hand? You don't look all the kingly. Tell me, does that stain on your elbow come in the ale variety as well? What about the hole on your cuffs?"

The man approached, looking for all the world as if he didn't care in the slightest that he was talking to a prisoner. In fact, he looked as if he didn't care much about anything, other than acting mysterious and sounding cynical. He was dressed simply, and his hair was mussed. He looked rather tired, over all.

Still, he was a much prettier picture than James was at the moment, of that he was certain. The other fellow had at least a good half foot on James as far as height was considered. James's features tended towards the classic lines, while this other fellow seemed to have a much rougher look. At the moment, however, James was caked in dirt, his clothing was ripped, he hadn't eaten much in a few days, and he was extremely cold.

"Are you going to amuse yourself by looking threatening, or are you actually going to do something?"

James asked tartly, tired of the man's probing looks. Taken aback, the armed man chuckled, and smiled slightly.

"So, it does talk. And since you were wondering, I'm not going to turn you in. I think, in fact, that I may be the only person in this castle who actually believes you. The name is Charles. I'm the Royal Hunt Leader. Accompany his majesty on rides, and such. And I happen to know that the seasons don't change dramatically in the blink of an eye, though I seem to be the only sensible one in this place. You _are_ the Prince, right?"

James felt rather overwhelmed at this point – but it was mainly with relief. At least someone believed him! He glanced around uncomfortably when the Hunt leader extended a hand towards him, but eventually took it and returned the handshake quite firmly.

"Not exactly. I am the person who woke up your Princess, it seems, but I am certainly no Prince. I'm little more than a journeyman in the village where I live – I'm a woodcarver. And my name is James."

After a moment, he tilted his head to the side, a small frown on his face. Charles lifted an eyebrow. The man may have seemed coarse, but he was James's sole ally in the entire castle. If what he suspected had happened was true, then he would definitely need someone to listen to him.

"So, it's been one hundred years?" Charles asked, leaning against the wall next to James. It appeared like he enjoyed leaning on things. "I could have guessed some period of time, but how did you know it was one hundred years?"

James shrugged, and looked him directly in the eye. Well, the truth was going to come out at some point, and this was as good a time as any.

"Easily. You recall the country of Alisain?" At the other man's nod, he continued. "Eighty four years ago, the King of Alisain waged war on all of this area. I imagine Hemlen was looked over due to the same spell that made it invisible for the past hundred years, but his army conquered not only this land, but the entire continent. We are now all citizens of Fargoth, and loyal vassals to the old King's son – Emperor Garenth."

A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I know this section needs a lot of work; I have an idea for the plot, I just can't quite manage to introduce it well. On to my reviewers:

LenaMarie: Thank you so much! I hope this lets you know!

Celestial Seraphim: Aww, that's so supportive. Thanks!

ShadowedBeneathMoonlight: Thank you, it's nice to know people are reading!

MioneRocks: That's all right, I like spazzy reviews, too!

Frostfire or Iceheart: Thank you! I plan to continue!

Claudia: I hope someday there will be a book for you to read!

MertleYuts: Thank you! I hope to get back to Lily's point of view soon! I hope she won't be your stereotypical princess.

Caoimhe: Thank you, I hope it will live up to your I know, he's such an innocent little sweety!

Aarg: Well, at least he managed to get out of there! 


	3. Chapter 3

The incredulous look on Charles's face didn't dissuade James from relating his story. He swallowed, wishing that something more than air was passing through his system. His stomach growled loudly, seconding his wish. The sound seemed to startle Charles (who had been gaping at him, all thought of his carefully polished front of nonchalance), and he promptly closed his mouth. A small, satisfied smirk crossed his lips. "Still human, are we? I suppose even heroes have to eat some time. Come on, boy."

James tactfully ignored the snide comment. Charles only looked to be a year or so older than him, but then, he did have the whole hundred years thing going for him. Still, the next time the other man tried to belittle James, it would not pass uncommented. His stomach interrupted this line of thought once more, and he grudgingly followed as Charles deftly wove through the snow drifts and overgrown plants.

It took James a moment to realize just what was wrong when they reached the Hunt Master's cabin, which sat silent and snug near the stables and the forest. That was what was wrong – the silence. Not a sound, other than the creaking of branches under heavy loads of snow. Tentatively, James cleared his throat.

"Charles. The stables – what happened to the horses?"

It was a long moment while Charles gazed at the cold grave that once teemed with life, an instant of pain crossing his face before his expression was schooled into passivity. The sharp instant of the reminder was still in his voice, which was gruff and soft.

"Not everything got to sleep. They were closed in for the night."

The terse answer ended any conversation between them as they tromped into the cottage. No sooner had James taken a seat when the questioning began in earnest. Charles set about the place, looking for the few things that hadn't been eaten by rats or gone rotten. That left some very weak tea, and a few winter berries that he had gathered that morning. These he set in front of James, before perching on an unsteady looking chair and peering at James. He had stoked the fire just enough so that the flickers of light would play across his face, and he positioned himself to make sure he appeared to be shroud in shadows. The guy had a good taste for the melodramatic.

"So, it's been one hundred years. What exactly does that mean to us?" Charles asked, making his voice as husky and dark as he could without it cracking.

James fought the urge to smile – after all, the business they were talking about could very well mean life or death to the people of this country. All of them, from the temperamental princess to the lowest of the kitchen drudges. People with children and families who were now ruthlessly abandoned a century past when they were meant to live. Styles had changed, new diseases had formed as old ones were being countered. They essentially knew nothing of the world they had stumbled upon, and unless they accepted the information he offered and acted quickly, they would be lost in the rapidly changing society presented to them. Certainly, this was no laughing matter.

Sighing, James stared pensively in the fire, taking the time to choose his words with exact precision. It was some time before he answered, but when he did, every word was measured and exact. He wouldn't mislead him – that could be the death of the country.



"When the invasion happened years ago, everyone was caught off guard. It began slowly, creeping across the countries as one after another succumbed to the power. Most went easily. Times were bad. Plague had severely weakened the southern half of the continent, and all suffered from a fifteen year drought. Money was scarce; people could barely afford to feed themselves, nonetheless supply foods and items for others. And worst of all, the magic was weakening. Healers, which had been so plentiful, were worn out visiting town after town as their districts expanded.

"Godmothers and the Fair Folk were so rare, that they have since faded to little more than legend. The wizards and warlocks began to age and drop off, one by one. Unicorns and merfolk disappeared into thin air. All that remained of the magic was the formerly standard ability of children to purify water, and even that gift became coveted.

"At first, the vanishing magic was heralded as progression, because it was easy to notice when griffins and dragons stopped terrorizing cities. People were so preoccupied with eliminating the bad magic that they didn't seem to notice that for every demon that was vanquished; a faerie or centaur went missing as well.

"The Fargoth arrived, with what seemed to be a multitude of witches and godmothers and pixies. He had gathered those that he could still find and – promising comfort and stability – added them to the front that he presented to the rest of the world. Now, you might think us weak, but very few countries resisted. He offered a safe haven and a return to normalcy. And he gave us just that, until about twenty five years ago."

Charles still said nothing, watching James's face with intense scrutiny. Other than a few nods, he was simply absorbing the stunning information, and trying to work out the implications it held for the land and the people that he loved. James stopped to swig down the remaining tea, and only continued when Charles gestured for him to go on.

"As I was saying, it was only twenty five years ago when we realized that the last of the Fae Folk had vanished. Emperor Fargoth had kept his promise, and our country took his name to honor that. But with Garneth came something new. He was inexperienced, and blamed the loss of the magic as a fault of the people. Anyone who tried to reason with him was thrown into jail, and even mentioning the magic that once was is punishable. He is paranoid and frightened, and though the people have prospered, he refuses to believe that anything can change.

"So now, in you come. A nation frozen in time, with all the properties of the past; and if the kiss" here James couldn't keep but gently rubbing a lump on his head curtesy of Her Royal Highness "from three days ago is any indication, with the most important thing possible. Magic."

"Emperor Garneth will want that more than anything, and I do not doubt that he will do anything he can to make sure that the power relies with him. He will no doubt try to -"

Before James could finish his sentence, trumpets sounded from every tower of the castle, so that the air reverberated with them. Charles was on his feet at once, but as he moved to hide James, voices rung from across the courtyard.

"This way! The tracks lead to here – the Hunter's cottage!"



No sooner had James scrambled to his feet to try and find a hiding space, than the door was kicked open, showering the modest room in damp wood and snow. Desperately, he turned to Charles, only to find that his senses were slow, and his body couldn't react quickly enough. As he opened his mouth to question his sluggish movements, three men charged into the room.

"That's him – Get him!"

The guards, however, were not necessary. For within moments of the enraged shout, a more terrifying and vicious snarl ripped from Charles's throat as he spun and deftly bludgeoned James in the head with the blunt side of an axe, sending him sprawling across the floor.

James sputtered, crashing into the stone fireplace, only to find a plethora of blows landing across his body as the guards got their kicks in. Shocked, he looked up at Charles, only to see a glimpse of brown as the wooden side of the axe connected with his head, and then darkness.

The guards groaned in disappointment at the quick end to their fun, but at an imperious gesture from Charles, they lifted the unconscious man.

"Where do you want him, your Highness?" One of the guards growled lowly, not meeting Charles's eyes as he shifted James's weight.

"Bring him to my stateroom immediately. And speak not a word of this to anyone. If they ask, he was found and returned to the cells, where he is being kept for questioning. Summon the court healer, and my father. Tell him that I wish to hold council."

The leader of the bunch nodded. "As you say, your Highness. And if I might add, sir, that was a mighty fine blow you planted on him." With that, he led the pack of men out, leaving the Crown Prince amidst the wreckage of the cabin, considering the fate of his small, backwards country. He frowned, and carefully ran his fingers through his hair, checking his reflection in a shard of the shattered teapot.

A/N:

So, I know it's been a long time. I could come up with a lot of excuses, but that would just be wasting your time and mine. I'm sorry? Hopefully, I'll be able to update at least one more time before I fly to Minnesota (go Knights!) for my freshman year. Not sure how regular the updates will be, but I'll try my best.

I would write acknowledgements to my reviewers, but I'm all ready behind on packing. Just know that I love you guys, and I hope you stick with me!


	4. Chapter 4

This feeling was getting awfully familiar. This time, though, the briefest crack of light made his head feel like if it was on fire. The angry voices surrounding him didn't help the headache, either. It seemed like the world was crashing in on him. What, was this the second time he had awoken to find himself on the floor, with pain lacing every movement? Well, either he was very clumsy or extremely unlucky. It seemed that fate had decided to go with the second.

This wasn't the way this was supposed to happen. His grandfather had always told him of the hidden castle, and the most beautiful girl asleep in a deep enchantment. Supposedly, only her true love could awaken her, wasn't that right? Well, his grandfather had never mentioned how fast it would all happen. How, on his way to sell his lovingly crafted wares, a castle suddenly appeared in a forest that he had rarely glanced at.

Then, oddly compelled, he had ventured into the briars that tore at his skin and clothes and formed a maze around the castle, distracting him for days. The meager meal he had packed for market day had somehow stretched to sustain him, as if renewed when he dropped into exhausted sleep. And then there was the dragon. James shuddered, just thinking about the hideous beast.

That small motion caught the attention of the people in the room, and the voices slowly went silent. There was shuffling and muffled whispers – noises that James tried to block out as his head pounded. Before too long, a surprisingly gentle pair of hands eased him into a sitting position.

"Don't waste our time, son. Just wake him up, so we can get this over with."

Stifling a groan, James opened his eyes carefully. He was in an opulent room, decorated mainly in varying shades of red and gold. Charles stood beside him, and in front of him sat the King, two men and an old woman. Blinking rapidly, James tried to remember exactly what had happened. When it came to him, he turned – a little too quickly for the pain in his head – to glare at Charles.

"You hit me! Twice!"

Charles smiled with what he must have thought to be a mysterious air, and perked an eyebrow.

"All will be revealed in time."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" James asked incredulously, tired of the charade.

To his surprise, the king chuckled, but Charles only scowled. James sighed, looking at the rest of the gathered people, hoping for some sort of explanation. How did the Huntsman get in such good league with the King? And who were these other people? Surprise crossed his features when he realized that while there were guards in the room, he wasn't bound in any form.

The king cleared his throat, causing all faces to turn expectantly towards him.

"Now, down to business. Lad, I want you to tell me everything that you told my son. If you please."



James brushed aside the small fact that the Huntsman was instead the Prince, and dutifully related to the king everything he had told Charles, as simply as he could. At the end of his speech, though, he could not help adding, resentfully, that it appeared the royal family would rather see him injured.

The King looked to the other people in the room, who James had guessed to be members of the royal council. One of the older men looked enraged, the other looked thoughtful, and the old woman had fallen asleep about three words into his story. The King smiled, and nodded to James.

"If what you say is true, then you have given us a lot to talk about. You're sure that the Emperor would not hesitate in attempting to control our magic?"

Nodding gingerly, James speculated how to proceed. Well, if he was going to die anyway, then he might as well go down in flames, right? What was a little insubordination?

"I've answered your questions sir, now I have a few of my own." He didn't pause, for he didn't want to allow the King to interrupt him. "First of all, I've heard all the stories about the curse and the Princess. But all of them spoke of the King and Queen wishing for a baby. None of them mentioned that they had all ready had one."

To his surprise, the King just looked at him evenly and answered without hesitation.

"The stories you heard were precisely the way that we wanted them to be told. Charles is our first born, but we hid his existence for the same reason that spindles were outlawed after Lily was born. He, too, was cursed. For his christening, though, we did invite the fairy Maliva, but she cursed him anyway. Why do you think we left her off the guest list for Lily?

"Anyway, when she came to bestow his gift, she instead cursed him, saying that on his twenty-first birthday, she would return to kill him. So, we sent him to live as a peasant, hiding his very existence by claiming he had sickened and died. We were so comforted by the fact that he had not yet been discovered, that with Lily we merely burned all the spindles in existence. We had obviously become too comfortable. All the same, Charles passed his twenty first birthday in safety. We were planning on introducing him to the court after Evangeline had safely passed her sixteenth birthday."

"Now, then; the matter of what to do with you. You may have told us the truth, but in any case, you still greatly offended my daughter. Though it is apparent that you were drawn here by the power of the spell, I doubt she'll see it that way. Frankly, boy, you don't look like much of her type. She generally likes them… well, strong. Tall, devilishly handsome, the works. All the same, she won't buy that you're supposed to be her true love."

James gulped. He had forgotten about that particular of the story. He was supposed to marry her? Somehow, he doubted that would happen. After all, she thought him no better than a lecher. For the oddest reason, he doubted that that spelled 'true love' in her mind. Frankly, she didn't seem to fit the mold in his mind, either.



In any case, he had never liked the sort of girl who would assault a fellow for just an innocent kiss. Never mind that she had been asleep when that kiss was bestowed. Without him, why, she would still be sleeping now, except the whole castle would be visible to outsiders, since the one hundred year cloaking spell had passed. Therefore, she owed the security or her kingdom to him.

His pompous thoughts were quickly banished when the door was flung open. He was seated so that he could not easily see the occupant, but he had a feeling that he knew who would throw the door open and then sigh loudly.

"Daddy." The imperious, soft tone confirmed his fears. It appeared that each of the Royal children liked drama. With Charles, it was his desire to be 'the man in shadows'. Maybe he had learned that in hiding, but he was bad at it, nonetheless. Evangeline's flair appeared to lie in her skill with her voice. Whether screaming or in regal tones, the girl really could manipulate her audience with the warmth in her voice. Then again, it was a gift from one of her Godmothers, so it followed that it would be grand. All the same, James could imagine the same voice, soft with kindness and regard…

His reverie was interrupted by the subject. Apparently, those same vocal chords could imitate ice just as well. He winced, ducking his head when the emerald eyes of the Princess were trained on him.

"Father, what is _he_ doing here? In Charles's room? Unbound?"

James wondered briefly if the guards had thought to try and block their ears with wax. He certainly would have, if Evangeline's voice reached such high octaves on a daily basis.

"Ah, Lily. I was just speaking of you. As you see, we have brought the prisoner. He has given us some very interesting information, and in response, I have promised not to behead him."

"What about a hanging?"

"Now, now, Lily. Don't be ridiculous. No, we won't kill him. Nor will he spent the rest of his life in the prisons, or working in the forest, or sacrificed to the dogs. No, no. I have a solution I think will suit you both. For his indiscretion, he will be punished with a lifetime of servitude, unless I decree otherwise. Naturally, Lily, as it was you that he offended, consider him a gift from me to you, with my sincerest apologies."

James closed his eyes, hoping that this was some sort of delusion. Maybe he had knocked his head again, and this was the result of some strange dream? Well, a guy could hope, anyway. When he opened his eyes again, there she was.

She was smiling, quite satisfied with her new acquisition. She flicked a bit of chocolate brown hair behind her shoulder. A hand stroked her chin as she thought over where to start.

"You. What did you say your name was?"



The entire royal family was watching him expectantly, and James thought he caught a bit of pity in Charles's glance. How did he get here? Wasn't he supposed to be the hero of the story?

His musings were once again interrupted.

"I'm waiting." Oh, he had better answer now. No use trying to ignore it, in any case.

"James."

"Right. Well, you are no longer to be called James. From now on, I will call you Boy, or whatever I so choose. Any questions?"

"No, your Highness."

A sly smirk crept across her face.

"Good then. Come, boy. Have you ever mucked out a stable?"

With a final, desperate glance behind him, Charles nodded, meekly following Evangeline, and plotting his revenge.

A/N: So, here's another bit! And I can finally thank my reviewers!

Celestial Seraphim: Thanks so much! I really appreciate the encouragement, and I'm honored to be on your list!

T. Cole: Yah, sorry about that. I kind of didn't know where I was going with it, so I just stopped. I have a better idea now!

MertleYuts: Let's be honest. We can't ever take Charles seriously. He's a nut. :)

QueenoftheFaeries: Thank you so much! I hope it's not too disturbing/skewed!


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a long few days. James was used to hard labor. As a wood carver, he worked to order. And most people wanted beds, cribs, chairs and tables. Not exactly the precise and delicate pieces he preferred, but what mattered more was keeping food on the table. So, he spent many mornings picking out the perfect lumber, carting it home, creating sketches and rounding corners. Most of his commissions had been for the simplest creations – sturdy things that would last a few decades. All the same, James always added his own touch of style. A stork on a crib, a sunflower on the side of a chair; small things that made him truly happy.

Nothing about this work made him happy. He had spent most of the first day cleaning out the rotting stables. The second day had been devoted to repairs. By the third, James had run out of curses for the Princess who idled nearby, taunting him and leering with every drop of sweat that ran down his forehead.

In all honesty, all James wanted now was a dip in water, a filling meal and fresh clothes. The ones he wore were the same he had arrived in, and the holes from the briars were stretched and enlarged with the constant movement. Evangeline hadn't even deemed him worthy of the standard uniform. Then again, that might have had something to do with the fact that the castle had to restock completely, and there were a myriad of repairs to be done.

Princess Lily couldn't have seemed less interested, unless the changes affected her directly, of course. Either she refused to believe that there was no sugar to spare, or she had knowingly sent James on a four hour long wild goose chase that made him no friends among the frantic kitchen staff.

If there was a word to describe the way James was feeling, it would best be defined as frustration. Day in and day out, he was forced to slave to the Princess's every petty whim. She barely spoke to him, and forbade the other servants from doing so unless they were giving instructions. So here he was, cutting fresh wood and dragging it in, then cutting it into rough planks to repair various parts of the castle. He was blocked from hearing anything about whether the King had confirmed his story, and if he was going to use the information given to him to prepare for anything that would come from the Emperor.

Starved for information, James took to eavesdropping whenever possible, an act which made him a new enemy and a new friend.

It had been barely a week since James had been commanded to wait on the Princess's hands and feet, and James was going insane. That morning, the Princess had watched as James scrubbed the floor of her bed chamber in total silence. Three hours had washed away with the grime that caked the stone floors, and left James with aching knees and rough hands. Lily had sat perched on her bed, throwing whatever insult she could at him. Occasionally, she would make him redo a stone, or would intentionally drop her tea onto the bit he had just done.

When he finally had gained her approval, she sent him on a quest for boiling hot water for her bath. Never mind that this meant finding a suitable bucket or shaping a new one, and since the Princess (naturally) lived in the highest room of the tallest tower, any water he slugged up would most likely be 

only lukewarm by his arrival. She would then pout, and he would dump the water out the window while she watched with a smug grin. Then, the whole process began again.

James had barely made it up a flight of stairs when someone came barreling down the hallway. A small body crashed into his larger one, sending the pair of them tumbling down the stairs, water sloshing over both of them and making the well worn steps slick. James had only managed to right himself when he slipped again, bumping down the remainder of the steps.

The person who had crashed into him was in much worse shape. The young boy – no older than thirteen – was nursing his arm, blinking back tears and tentatively moving each of the fingers. He yelped when he got to his thumb, and James winced in sympathy.

"Let me see that." He said softly. The lanky youth looked at him nervously, but presented his hand for inspection. The joint in question was slightly swollen, but it didn't appear to be broken. Just to be safe, James bent it slightly, and was relieved to see that though it caused the boy some pain, it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"It'll hurt for a while, but you'll live." James said reassuringly, offering his hand to the smaller boy. He smiled slightly, glad to be something more than 'yes miss' or 'if it pleases your highness.' The boy shrugged off the hand, determinedly scrambling to his feet.

At first glance, the young fellow appeared to be no more than long arms and legs, as his body was as scrawny and long as the rest of him. He had pale blonde hair, and large brown eyes that reminded James of a fawn. He was a good-enough looking boy, but he obviously needed time to grow into his limbs, which seemed to grow longer by the second. All in all, he was nothing extraordinary.

Except for one thing; he was clothed in the musty livery of a message boy. And as such, he had access to every level of the castle, and could listen in on conversations without being questioned. After all, he was supposed to be within arm's distance in case someone needed a message carried across the castle.

James's smile grew as he realized the potential news that the lad would hear – all of the things that James yearned to know. Finally, something had gone his way in this treacherous castle.

"What's your name?" He asked, cutting short the boy's bumbling apologies about his clumsiness.

The lad swallowed, and peered at James, trying to figure out what the oddly accented man wanted

"Finn. My name is Finn. Sir. Mister."

"It's James. Just James."

Finn's eyes widened. "James? The James? The one who woke up the Princess Evangeline?"



He said the last two words reverently, his face taking on a dreamy cast. It was a full thirty seconds before he seemed to realize that he had abandoned a conversation for his reverie. He turned to James again, this time with a critical eye.

"If you don't mind me saying so, you don't seem much her type. She generally likes them tall…"

"Dark and handsome. I know" James interrupted, growing frustrated with the star struck youth. "In any case, I need a favor, Finn. You're a page, right? Well, I bet you know the castle inside and out. I need your help, um, navigating. A task for the Princess, I'm sure you understand."

Ah, he had spoken the magic words. It seemed that Finn was part of the Princess Lily fan club. Apparently, he had never had actually spoken to the Princess, nor served as her target practice. In any case, it looked like James wouldn't have much trouble getting him to lend a hand. Or an ear, in this case.

Finn took a moment to consider his offer, a frown creasing his forehead. Finally, he nodded. Before James could give his instructions, though, the youth held up one finger, indicating that he had a few conditions of his own.

"I'll help you – if you tell the Princess just who helped you. And, I would like a favor of my own. And finally," he blushed scarlet "I want to tell me about what it was like, kissing the Princess."

James almost groaned. Now, there was one memory he had tried his best to blot out, however unsuccessfully. He grimaced, but nodded. Learning about what steps had been taken in the castle was worth reliving even his worst memory (which included two chickens, a dog and a well. But that's another story).

After explaining his desired destination, he was pleased when the lad didn't ask any questions, and just scampered off. James didn't find it odd that the boy didn't even hesitate when he told him he wished to be able to listen to the King's council chamber, and remain completely hidden. Even a boy had to get bored sometimes, and there was a lot of castle to explore.

As they proceeded down the halls, James took a moment to really see the damage that years of weather and dirt had inflicted on the castle. Tapestries that must have once popped with color were now so dust ridden and moth bitten that it was barely possible to tell what they were meant to depict in the first place. The windows were broken in most places, and what remained of them was opaque with years of grime.

Statues placed in corners had crumbled, victims of harsh weather and no care. The fields visible from the broken window panes were disordered, overgrown and unseeded. The stables were still as haunted and lonely as they had been several days ago, and the paint on the walls had chipped away to reveal the bare stone beneath it.

James sighed, wondering idly what the castle must have looked like in its prime. As it was, scores of servants were repairing, cleaning and planting. The place had begun to show signs of life again, 

and with the level of dedication evidenced by the workers, James didn't doubt that the place would soon be restored to its former grandeur.

Soon, all signs of opulence disappeared as the pair wove their way deeper into the bowels of the castle. Before long, there was no natural light, but Finn skipped lightheartedly through the dank halls. All at once, he stopped, gesturing for James to be silent. It was then that he could hear it – the muffled murmurings of a room below them. James crouched, pressing his ear to the mossy wall.

The voices became more distinct, and he could just glean what was being said. Apparently, some of the warding spell on the castle remained, for he had been the only one from 'outside' to find his way to the gates. They did not know, however, how long that would last, and just what to expect when everyone found an entire country where there used to stretch a huge forest.

There was a lot of discussion about whether Charles's existence should be announced to the people, and just how to explain to them that they had been asleep for one hundred years, and essentially had to start a-fresh at their livelihoods.

After the fourth time that order was called for, James decided he had heard enough. He pulled back, only to find that his companion had fallen asleep as he had listened. Panic gripped him – how long had he been in here? He shook Finn awake, and the boy grouchily led them back towards the light and bustle of the main halls.

They had barely taken three steps out of the passageway when a high, angry voice stopped them in their tracks.

"The Princess has been looking for you, and she isn't pleased. It's been four hours, you know."

The speaker was a slender child of maybe ten years. She stood in a grubby apron, her light blonde, frizzy hair severely braided against her head. James didn't have time to question exactly who she was, for a moment later, an enraged shriek confirmed her words.

Grimacing, James turned to trudge up the stairs. About halfway up, an idea came to him. He spun around only to find the boy and girl arguing about something. He grinned, hoping that the children would play into his plans willingly.

"Say, Finn? You wanted to meet the Princess, didn't you?"

--

A/N: Well, here's a bit more for you! The parts are slowly getting longer, which is something that will hopefully continue. In any case, any feedback is MUCH appreciated. Much love!

Bingo7: Awww, I know! The poor guy gets beat up alot. Thanks for the support, and I hope you keep reading! Enjoy this part!


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